


Deep in Dreams

by aquietpersonwithaloudmind



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Masturbation, Mating Bond, NSFW, Smut, it's not really a threesome bc there's no Mor/Cassian, sin - Freeform, the moral of the story is: I was horny and gay and now I'm going to hell, with queer! everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquietpersonwithaloudmind/pseuds/aquietpersonwithaloudmind
Summary: Nesta has a sex dream. It's not about Cassian.





	

_Mor, kissing him, her lips against his, her tongue brushing against his teeth. Mor, naked below him, his hands cupping her breasts, thumb flicking against her nipple. Mor, legs open, inviting him to touch—_

Cassian wakes, the scent of female arousal strong around him. It takes a moment for him to recognize it not as Mor’s, but as his mate’s, and another moment for him to think through his dream.

It has been a long time since he had thought about Mor in such a way. After the Incident, anything other than a friendly affection promised to be met with punishment, and so he did his best to ignore any attraction that may have survived the effects of their night together. Still, the tension between the two of them had never quite dissipated, and his subconscious had replayed the night spent between them repeatedly, embellishing and changing until his memories became fantasies. Those fantasies had ended—permanently, he thought—when he met Nesta, when the mating bond recognized them as one. He can’t control his subconscious, but he can decide who occupies his waking thoughts. With the sensuality of the dream still pumping through his blood and Nesta’s scent thick in the air, he wants nothing more than to remind his subconscious who he belongs with. 

He tries to bring his mate closer into his embrace, ready to begin with gentle kisses along her neck, only to realize she’s not there.

He opens his eyes and folds his wings back, out of the cocoon they were in for her. He’s relieved to see she’s sitting just outside their embrace, ankles crossed but legs open, staring into space. Dawn is just beginning to bleed through the curtains, illuminating her naked form.

Cassian rolls over until he’s close enough to stroke her arm. “Have a good dream?” he asks. That would explain her arousal. With any luck, it wasn’t about her own ex.

She makes a small humming noise, and he raises himself up to kiss her neck, her jaw, her lips. He moves his hand from her arm to her breast, stroking the nipple lightly to make her shiver. The other hand begins making a path over her collarbone, down her breast, over her abdomen, below her navel. It’s only when he is just about to touch her heat that she pushes his hand away.

His almost-closed eyes snap open to find her regarding him with that familiar look of imperiality. “That’s not going to do it for me,” she says.

“What?” he blurts out.

“I had a dream,” she says. “But it wasn’t about you.”

Her steel gaze is testing him, wondering if he’ll fall prey to those faerie instincts she hates so much or if he’ll trust her. He does his best to remain calm as he asks, “Who was it about?”

There’s a rare hesitancy to her now, and it takes a moment too long for her to reply, “promise you won’t be disgusted.”

He’s a little concerned, and in a deeper part intrigued. “I won’t be disgusted.”

“Mor.”

His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you…”

She nods, guilt and embarrassment rushing through their bond. “I tried ignoring it for as long as I could. It was one of the reasons I hated the parties and the socializing when I was human. There were too many attractive people, and a lot of the time the women, those I was supposed to be _friends_ with—I would be more interested in doing to them what I was supposed to let a man do to me. I was hoping it would go away once you and I got together, and for the most part it _did,_ but...”

 _Oh,_ he realized. The dream he had wasn’t his, it was hers. It wasn’t uncommon for them to share dreams; their bond was strong and the shields they put up between themselves often fell when they were asleep. _That’s why she was sitting with her legs open._ _She’s trying to make her attraction to Mor go away._

_Only his Nesta would be so stubborn as to ignore the instinctual desires of her body._

He pulls her to him, stroking her hair as she hid her blushing cheeks in the crook of his neck. “Liking women as well as men is nothing to be ashamed of, Nesta. I like both,” he says, and she pulls back to look at him. “Mor likes both. Azriel doesn’t care about gender at all.”

Her brow furrows. “Rhys?”

“He was with both when he was younger, but I think he likes just women now. Or just Feyre, I guess.” His small joke gets the corners of Nesta’s mouth to tic upwards, and he smiles down at her in triumph. “And I don’t think Amren wants anyone in her bed at all,” he finishes, stroking his thumb over her arm once more. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She smiles, a gentle, lovely thing, rare enough he wants to sit in the half-light of pre-dawn and memorize the expression. But she glances down to where her need still pulses. “So that’s why I was saying you couldn’t do it for me before. You’re far too male,”—her hand grasps the corded muscle of his bicep as if to prove her point—“for my body right now. I’ll just have to… take care of it myself… later.”

And maybe it was the smile she wore only moments ago, or the confession she gave him, or the strange magic of a mostly-dark room, but he says, “why not now?”

Nesta blinks at him. “You mean you… you want to…”

“You’re already wet,” he says with a shrug. “It would be a shame to waste it, don’t you think?”

He can almost feel the hot pulse of desire her body responds with, thanks to the bond burning between them.

“Okay,” she says. “But you can’t touch me. It’ll completely ruin the effect.”

His blood roars, the thought of his mate splayed before him like that already hardening him, and he knows it will be a struggle when he says, “okay.”

She pulls herself away from him, laying on her back and opening her legs. He lays on his side, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, but far enough away that they don’t touch. He watches, intrigued, as her hands follow the same path his did, one resting on her breast, playing with her nipple, as the other continues down, down, down…

It’s when she finally touches her heat that he murmurs in her ear, “What were you and Mor doing in your dream?”

Pleasure crosses the bond, though whether it’s from her touch or his voice, he’s not sure. It must be some mix of both, because she answers, “she was… kissing me.”

“How was she kissing you?”

“We were sitting together and she leans over and kisses me,” Nesta says, voice relatively even as her fingers move in slow steady strokes. “Her lips are soft, and her tongue feels good, and she tastes—”she breaks off with a small gasp as she pinches her nipple—“so good.”

“Is she on top of you?”

“Yes,” Nesta says. “And she feels so good, how can someone feel this good—she’s touching my—she’s touching me--” The hand on her breast moves faster, and he knows what Mor is touching in Nesta’s fantasy.

“Touch her,” he commands.

“I want to,” Nesta all but begs him, and he watches as the hand between her thighs increases in speed. “She won’t let me. She said she wants to touch me, that she’s dreamed about touching me-” Nesta’s body arches off the bed in ecstasy, and she lets out a moan. All he can think is that he’s never seen her get this far this fast before.

“She’s touching you.”

“Yes,” Nesta manages, breathless, “and it feels so good and I don’t want it to stop-” the hand between her thighs slows.

“Touch her,” he says again. Her mental shields must be starting to fracture, because there is an image coming from the bond. Mor is straddling her, wearing shafts of red fabric that form a sort of crude dress, covering what Nesta wants revealed most. Cassian watches in his mind as Nesta pushes the straps down Mor’s arms, until her breasts are visible. His eyes take in Nesta’s hands touching her breast as mind-Nesta does the same to Mor.

“She’s letting you touch her now,” Cassian says, and Nesta moans out a yes. It doesn’t take any more encouragement as Nesta’s hand on Mor’s breast is replaced by Nesta’s mouth, her hands traveling over the taut skin of Mor’s stomach, rubbing circles on her hip, until—

Nesta reaches up under Mor’s dress to sink a finger deep into her waiting heat and Cassian watches as Nesta does the same thing to herself, arching off the bed, not even breathing. She hasn’t been this sensitive since the first few times they fucked, and he might be jealous or upset with Mor’s influence if not for the fact that she’s sharing it with him.

Slowly, Nesta breathes again, hooking her fingers inside herself. Cassian asks, “how does she feel?”

“ _Amazing,”_ Nesta manages, her finger moving faster. “Hot and wet and tight and—oh, oh, oh-” Nesta surges up suddenly, onto her knees, still working herself. In the vision, Mor slides beneath her, licking and nipping and tasting, fucking Nesta with her tongue. Ecstasy pulses down the bond, and Cassian wants so desperately to touch her, to bring her closer to the edge, to feel her desire for himself, to remind her that her fantasies are only an adaption of her memories of him doing this to her.

“Do you like that?” Cassian asks instead, his voice rough. His fingers play along his cock, needing a small release even if she can’t be the one to give it to him. “Do you like the sight of her beneath you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Nesta says, wild.

“Do you like her mouth on you?” Cassian asks, breathless now himself from his own touch. “She likes the taste of you, you know. She thinks you taste divine.” Nesta’s vision responds to his words, as Mor presses herself in closer, moves her tongue faster. Nesta adjusts her physical position in response to her vision, spreading her legs farther, pressing her knees into the bed more forcefully so pleasure becomes pain becomes pleasure, sinking through her and their bond as one.

“She wants you to know what you taste like,” Cassian says, and Nesta’s back arches, breasts and peaked nipples displayed like an offering. He wants to take them, but he promised not to touch, and so he pumps himself faster instead.  Mor pulls out from beneath her to climb up her taut body, pressing kisses as she goes, from her heat to her navel to below her ribs until she laves at Nesta’s breast in the same way Cassian wanted to, the softness of Mor’s tongue against the softness of Nesta’s flesh, the bite of her teeth against the hardness of her nipple. Nesta wants her to stay, to keep touching her like this, but Mor keeps moving, up to her collarbone, the soft skin of her neck. She stops there, biting and sucking until she is satisfied at the mark beginning to show. It is only then that she reaches Nesta’s lips, finally letting Nesta taste herself on Mor’s tongue.

“More, more, more,” Nesta says, and Cassian doesn’t know if it’s to him or to herself or to her vision of Mor. But it must be some combination, because the words are said mentally as well. Mor obliges, and pushes Nesta back to lie against the bed. Mor pushes Nesta’s legs apart, and their positions from before are now reversed, Nesta splayed out beneath her. Mor climbs on top.

“Are you ready for her?” Cassian says, but the words become Mor’s in Nesta’s head. She writhes in response, wanting Mor’s touch against her, in her, even as her own finger still moves within her from her continued position on her knees.

“Yes yes yes—“ Nesta cries, and then Mor grinds her hips down against Nesta’s, letting them feel the other’s slickness. She lets out a broken moan, and Cassian watches her other hand curl into a fist and move in between her thighs, generating the friction her mind is creating. She angles her hips over that fist so it hits her clit, and that combined with the other hand lending two fingers to sink inside herself brings her closer and closer to that precipice, closer and closer—

Mor continues grinding against her, Nesta now matching her movements, their breasts brushing against each other with every meeting of their hips and Mor returns to that spot on Nesta’s neck to finish what she started, to finish marking Nesta as _hers,_ and Nesta is close, so close, moving her fingers just a little bit faster, pressing into herself just a little bit harder—

Cassian is working himself in earnest, knowing she’s going to come and wanting to do so with her. All it takes is one look at her frantic body, and--

 

 _Bliss,_ the vision of Mor perfect and golden in her mind’s eye, the feeling of being filled, of a warmth and a wetness between her thighs and against them. _Bliss,_ Nesta thinks, and falls into the feeling.

 

She slowly returns to herself, relaxed, pliant, spent. It’s a few moments before she can speak. “Cassian?” she finally asks, eyes still closed.

He moves back over to her, having retained the space she asked of him. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

“Well, now you know what my dream was about,” she says.

He laughs. “Yes, I do. I appreciate you sharing.”

She manages to open her eyes blearily to look at him, a question contained in them. Through their bond, she asks, _Why?_

He runs a finger from her collarbone to her hip, a whisper of a touch that promises heat if she asks for it. “It showed me how you wanted to be touched.”

She makes a humming noise, her eyes drifting shut. “Maybe you should do the same for me then,” she says, then her eyes snap open. “Shit, Cass, I forgot about you-”

“You’re fine, love. I took care of it myself.”

She sits up on her elbows to glance down his body, and her own. _Oh,_ she realizes. _That was what I felt against my thigh._

“You were okay with that?”

He shrugs. “I think we established that you have no interest in my cock right now, but if you were getting yourself off, there was no reason I couldn’t do the same.”

She makes another humming noise then lays back down, this time curling into Cassian. He wraps his arms and wings around them.

“You know, Nesta,” Cassian murmurs to her. “If Mor’s interested, I wouldn’t necessarily be averse to her… joining us.”

A spark of surprise and renewed desire light through the bond. “Seriously?” Nesta asks, looking up at him.

Cassian strokes the delicate skin below Nesta’s rib, to calm instead of arouse. “Seriously. But let’s talk about it in the morning. You and I have to get up for training in a few hours.”

Nesta let out a groan at that, but buries her head into Cassian’s chest all the same.

“Stop whining,” he teases. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even have you and Mor train together. Your hand-to-hand combat _does_ need some improvement. And who better to work with you?”

She pulls back to look at him again. _“You wouldn’t dare.”_

“You should be thanking me. I could put you with Azriel instead, but he must be an eyesore compared to Mor and I.”

“Cass-”

He laughs, then pulls her back to him. “Go to sleep, love. You can decide if you want to kiss me or kill me in the morning.”

★★★

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [merflk](merflk.tumblr.com) for betaing and coming up with the title!
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me about this on my [tumblr!](cass-ian.tumblr.com)
> 
> (This the third time I've written smut, so please don't hesitate to leave criticism. I want to get better!)


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